Just One Wish
by dragoon811
Summary: Life is made up of wishes, and he made the first one that mattered when he was eleven.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, the world, or its characters, and am making no money from this fic.

**Author's Note**: I have no idea where this came from. It popped up in my head and wound up being written on my phone at about 2 in the morning, then polished up a bit from there. Any errors are mine and mine alone. :)

* * *

**Just One Wish**

He was eleven, of course, when he first met her. Her hair was all wild and she looked like a fey creature out of the battered Muggle storybook on his lap. In fact, he stared at her from his compartment across the small hall, likening her to the illustration. She was sitting with two older boys, the Gryffindor lion emblazoned proudly on their black robes; they were probably her brothers, given how they looked at each other. Merlin's knees, they were twins!

He fidgeted with the hem of his hand-me-downs, worrying at a stray thread there and twisting it around his finger until it snapped. Part of him longed to go talk to her, but knowing his luck, Bilius would come down the train and see him and that would make a right mess of things. Her brothers, he reflected, were probably a great deal cooler than his.

Instead, he hunkered back down and tried not to stare at the brown-eyed girl across the way, just wishing he could know her name.

* * *

Molly. Her name was Molly. He watched her approach the stool and the battered old hat; she sat primly for a moment before it shouted her house. The boys from the train cheered the loudest as she joined their table.

When his turn came, Arthur tried his best not to wonder how the hat worked and it flopped down, covering his freckled ears.

His eyes darted to his brothers at the Hufflepuff table as the hat mused to itself, then the Slytherin one. Mum had hoped for at least one of her three sons to be in her old house, but...

The hat seemed to be waiting, and Arthur couldn't help but glance over at the girl again.

It must have been some sort of answer, because it shouted 'Gryffindor!' so loudly he nearly fell off the stool.

He couldn't bear to look at his brothers, and instead seated himself next to a boy with rather mussed pale hair who promptly introduced himself as Edward-but-preferred-Ted, and had he _seen_ the ceiling!

* * *

He was thirteen when Ted jabbed him in the elbow and Arthur looked up from the burnt-out 'fairy lights' Ted had brought him from home, startled.

Molly'd grown over this past summer, and Arthur couldn't help but feel his cheeks heat. Grinning nervously, he even managed to ask her to sit with them, and promptly made a fool of himself by spending the next hour raving about why eckeltricity was so bloody amazing. ...He was fairly certain he'd repeated himself a few times, but Molly hadn't seemed to mind.

Arthur straightened his back as she toyed with her sleeve, wishing for the chance to sit next to her in every class.

* * *

It was his great chagrin to discover that Molly smelled like home – clove and nutmeg and vanilla and cinnamon, all the cooking smells he missed the most at Hogwarts. Not that the food wasn't good, but it wasn't the same as his mum's. But Molly smelled like home and that made him tongue-tied and over-excited all at once.

She was blindingly smart, too, and wanted to go into Healing, which he thought she'd be well-suited to. She was a devil in Defence, and could whip up every Potion on the board without too much trouble, bossing him about a bit to crush or stir. All in all, her skills were fairly well-rounded, whereas his were more in charms and enchantments.

Arthur couldn't haven't told her what he wanted to do as they passed the ink-filled parchment back and forth - he liked all the Muggle things he could find, to his family's constant amusement, but where was a job in that?

* * *

Tinkering in the slightly-lopsided shed he'd built last summer, Arthur tried again to make the carburetor fit back together. He shouldn't have taken it apart to begin with, but it was new! What if it was put together different than the last one? Fascinating, those Muggles.

He jammed his thumb and scowled, wrapping his handkerchief around it. He should give up for now, go tidy up the gnomes like Dad had asked.

After all, a lad couldn't take a lady out without at least a little pin money. He only wished he had the courage to ask her.

* * *

Arthur was fifteen when he grinned at his reflection, trying to put his hair to order. He hadn't been able to sleep since he'd asked her. And she had said yes! A real, actual yes! He had a _date!_ To Hogsmeade, no less.

Hands shaking, he jammed his cap over his ears, ruining what he'd managed, and hurried down the tower steps, his pride and happiness roaring in his chest.

* * *

Panting and flushed from more than exertion, Arthur dragged Molly down the hall, old Pringle chasing them. If they could just make it to the Fat Lady, he'd never know just which two Gryffindors had been out and about at the four o'clock in the morning.

They ducked past a suit of armor and ran straight through Nick, uncaring, and Molly laughed breathlessly.

Her hand was warm and right in his, her warm scent filling his lungs. They were going to get caught, but detention was worth it, worth every moment alone with her.

Making up his mind, Arthur skidded to a stop and kissed her before urging her on alone.

* * *

Molly smiled at him, clearly waiting for an answer. He couldn't believe she'd cooked for him! That it was good didn't surprise him, his Mollywobbles could do anything she put her mind to, he knew.

But her smile when he told her just how much he loved it was better than the food, and the wish he made as he blew out the sixteen candles was that he could stay with her forever.

* * *

Arthur flicked his wand lazily, setting the scrap of paper flitting across the room to land by her fingertips. He always had been particularly clever with charms, especially small ones.

Beaming, she turned to him, all curves and curls, earning a particularly fierce reprimand from the Professor.

* * *

Dazed and more than just a bit giddy, Arthur took her dare and had a second sip. The fire whiskey burned down his throat and settled into his stomach, making him feel warmer than usual around her.

It had been Molly's idea to celebrate their impending graduation - and Arthur's acceptance into the Ministry - with a bottle he'd smuggled in from Hogsmeade wrapped in the scarf she'd made him last year.

Her round cheeks were flushed, and her brown eyes sparkled as he leaned in and kissed her again, the wireless he'd smuggled in playing quietly behind them.

Seventeen and she tasted like the drink, but still smelled like home.

* * *

He was almost nineteen, and his hand shook as he toyed with the battered little box. He didn't have much to start with, but he was damned clever with construction charms, could build almost anything. There was a nice bit of land up in Devon he could afford, and the climate of their world was growing darker. How could he go on without her? There was so much at risk these days, her brothers in the thick of it, and Arthur didn't want to waste a moment of what could possibly be a very short life if things turned sour.

So dearly did he love her! The way she laughed and blushed and sang along to awful songs, how she could go from fierce to gentle in a blink. She was clever and strong and his heart felt near to bursting with love. There was no life he could envision that didn't include her next to him.

He didn't doubt that she'd say yes; they'd talked about it, after all, about a family and a garden and a home. But the question was when she'd agree. They were so young, she had so much ahead of her and he was absent-minded sometimes, he knew. But his resolve was firm. He'd ask her even though he didn't have much to offer. Hell, he'd ask her every week if he had to, until she –

Words dried up in his throat as he heard the tell-tale pop of her apparition. The wild flowers bunched in his hand paled in comparison to how pretty she looked with her hair clipped back a bit.

Straightening his robes, Arthur smiled at his Mollywobbles and got down on one knee, wishing fervently for her to spend her life at his side.

-fin-


End file.
